Sunkissed Wonder
by Equals.Love
Summary: Katniss is struggling to accept that Peeta isn't the same. She can't be the same around Gale, though. Prim has taken Peeta on as her patient, for her sister's sake. The rebellion has only just begun. Who will Katniss choose? Read and Review Please:
1. I Need Someone

_Twilight Love_

I stare out through the fence, looking at the desolate lands of District 13. The underground society barely surfaced, so it was right for any prying hovercrafts from the Capitol to assume it was dead. But that's where I wanted to laugh, and rub it in Snow's face. We were alive, and well enough to survive. _I_ was alive, and well enough.

He would die, I thought repeatedly, so eager to send my favorite weapon into his heart. Or maybe his forehead? Or maybe in the eye, like every other animal I've hunted? Well whatever, I'd decide my shot when he was begging for his life, backed into a corner with nowhere to run, and no rhyme or rose to torture me. I wouldn't have to fear his blood scented breath, because I'd end his breathing.

I hold the urge to smile, and that urge completely vanishes when a familiar voice appears behind me. "Katniss."

"Hm?" I turn.

Prim.

Her eyes are big, and filled with slight concern. It was the face she made when she couldn't understand my frustration back when Peeta and Gale were the worst of my issues. Peeta. Gale.

Did I dare even go back to the underground to face them both?

"Gale wants to talk to you... you can't avoid him forever," she says in a motherly tone. Since when did Prim start doing my job?

I smile up at her, and say, "I used to tell you what to do, little duck. Since when did you get so grown up?" Prim smiles, but the air about the place limits our genuine joy. "Since I watched my big sister survive for my sake."

Had I not been through so much worse, I would have cried. But I don't. Rather, I smile even more, and stand up, ruffle her hair, and place a kiss on her forehead. "Time for me to grow up, too. Where is he?"

She escorts me to the elevator, and we both ride it back down to civilization. Funny how that's not the way it should work. "With Beetee," she explains, "working on...whatever they're working on."

"Ah," I answer, and the rest of the trip is silent. The elevator stops, and we both get off. I go left, she goes straight. "Oh, Katniss," Prim calls, just as I head towards the door. "What is it, Prim?"

"Nevermind, he's here," she jerks her head forward, and I rejoin her side. There he is. Gale. His eyes are tired, and his hands are bandaged. He sits there with a full plate of food in front of him, yet he refuses to touch it. I can say refuse, because I know this look. He's frustrated.

Prim says something, but it takes me a minute to pull away from worry over my best friend to realize what it is she just said. "You _what_?" I hiss, and snatch her arm roughly. Never have I grabbed onto Prim with such anger. She looks at me like I've lost my mind—there are times when I question that myself—and jerks her hand away. "Yes, Katniss. Peeta. I am going to sit with _Peeta Mellark_."

"What if he hurts you? I'll kill him I swear it," I growl, sounding more like Buttercup every minute. Damn cat rubbing off on me.

"Katniss, please! I'm working with his mental trauma. I'm his doctor, at the moment."

"I'll have you switched out with someone-"

"I volunteered to take Peeta as my personal patient," Prim explains, and I feel betrayed. Not only betrayed, but horrified. Mortified. Any other term to explain my disgust. "_Why_," the word comes out like it was meant to kill. Prim's blue eyes flicker to the table where Peeta is sitting alone, his hands resting in his lap, bound by cuffs. His eyes are glued to the table, and he looks like the old Peeta. But I know that guy no longer exists.

"I chose him for you. As much as you say he's gone, I don't want to believe that. I like Peeta, Katniss. He's kind of like a brother to me. Like Gale. And I know you're still waiting on that welcome home hug," she says, and that stings. I can only stand there speechless, because she's right about it all. Running into that room and feeling Peeta's hands on my throat and not my back...I nearly choke now just thinking of it.

Slowly, I nod, and let her arm go. I watch her approach Peeta, and sit across from him, smiling as she holds out her hands, speaking softly when she examines him medically. They look related, somewhat, with that blonde hair and blue eyes. Buttercup joins the party, and to my surprise, doesn't attack Peeta. Of course, the cat only hates me.

But while I watch this, I become jealous. Jealous that my sister can so easily bring out the Peeta that I saved. The Peeta that saved me. The boy who I selfishly walked to my train car every night, forcing him to be my protective cover from the nightmares. The boy who risked his life for me, and went out of his way for me, no matter how many times I was caught crying, being weak, kissing Gale...

"Well damn, don't look so melancholy, Catnip."

I jump, and spin. Gale is smirking at me, his arms folded across his chest. "Gale," I breathe, relieved he approached me first, relieved that he used my nickname. "Jealous much?"

"Well, kind of," I admit, because lying to Gale would be pointless, "if I strangled you, and let you watch me sit around with the world and smile..."

"I would hate you," Gale murmurs, "but I'd do everything to make you remember."

I look at him. Why is everyone so damn smart today? "You're not wrong in what you're feeling, Katniss. But you're pouting. It's really putting me off," he teases, his serious tone changing into that of a joke. Leave it to Gale to lighten the air. It makes me laugh, and I turn away from Peeta at the moment, knowing I owe Gale my complete being. I don't even let my mind wander to the boy with the bread.

"I'm sorry... even Prim scolded me. I must look pretty weak."

"Can you say, Damsel in distress?"

I punch his shoulder, and lean against it. Comfort. I guess I hadn't been near Gale in a while, or anyone for that matter, because my body completely melts. He senses this, and slides his arms around me. I feel his cool kiss touch my temple, and I close my eyes. "even you're saying I should go to him?" I ask for his advice. Why would Gale want me to resurface Peeta's undying love for me? He claimed that once, I know I'm not conceited.

"I never hated the guy, Katniss. He's a good person, we've met before you. I don't wish anyone to lose their real memories. He's in there...somewhere," Gale assures, and tightens his grip on me. "I'll go," I say, as his pearl weighs down in my pocket like an anvil. "But right now, let's let Prim deal with him."

I know I'm selfish. I know I'm a bad person. But Peeta's comfort isn't here, and until I go make it right, Gale's all I've got. So, with regret, one sided feelings, I cradle further into Gale's arms, not caring if he knows my true feelings better than I do.

"So why are your hands damaged?" I ask, tracing over the layers of bandages. Being I'd been in two death battles, and now involved in a war, I was used to injury. But I wasn't used to actual bandages. I'd been given healing ointments, magical syringes, Capitol hospitalization... a simple bandage looked so foreign to me. I found myself staring at it like a child mesmerized by a dazzling object.

"Beetee and I tested out a new electrocution technique. It's somewhat of an advanced shock gun, I guess. Let's just be glad the only things injured were my hands," he chuckles, and flexes them, as if he's thanking them for not having blown off entirely. "Thank goodness for that. What's so special about a shock gun?" I never found shock guns a useful weapon. Close range, easily subdued with some rubber. Then again, I just liked distance. Maybe it was a mental thing. The first time I killed someone was hard enough. The first time I killed someone up close was an inexplicable moment. I couldn't describe it now if I tried.

I can hear Gale's steady breathing, and feel his rhythmic heartbeat, gently pulsing beneath his jacket. "This one doesn't just zap you. It launches small disks that slice into the skin and shock the nerve endings, causing much more damage. We've also wired them to detonate after thirteen seconds of pure DC charging into their bodies at over ten thousand volts," he grins as he explains this, like it's the greatest creation known to man. But me, being a hunter from a poor district turned survivor superstar, knows nothing of what he's talking about. So I sit there, with a dumbstruck look on my face. Gale takes notice, and sighs, "it's very lethal, and hard to defeat."

"Ah, I'll try it sometime," I say, and close my eyes. I'm very tired. But I feel bad, and quickly open them to look up. Gale is doing the same as me, dozing off. "If you're tired, I'll let you sleep," I offer, ready to pull from his arms. But he holds me back, and says, "no, stay."

I don't mean to question his motives. He has every right to ask me anything he likes. But I guess the look on my face must have demanded an explanation. Because his eyes turn into narrowed daggers, and his brow furrows with a mixture of emotions, as his voice squeezes a painful tone from his lips, "at least let me know what it's like to be in his place."

Suddenly I don't want to be in his arms anymore. It's like I'm replacing Peeta (so much for not thinking about him). But I owe this to Gale. He has done so much for me, so much that I practically owe him my life. So, despite my rejection, I lean my head on his chest, close my eyes, and feel his arms encase me tight. I'll let him have this, because I don't feel that Peeta will ever be normal. And at the moment, I'm not sure I mind.


	2. All of Me

"He wants to talk to you," Haymitch grumbles, glaring at his bottle of whisky. It's too low for his taste, so he's probably going to piss and moan about it until someone gets him a new bottle. I, however, happen to supply the poor man when the district wants to cut him off. He smiles at me, and uncaps the new bottle, taking a swig, and shaking his head with a gurgling sort of sound.

Drunkard.

"What?"

"Peeta, says he wants to see you, so go," he jerks his head, and looks to the door. "Prim said it should be fine by now, so don't waste any time." I stare at Haymitch for a good five seconds, until he shoots me a look, and grumbles, "look, sweetheart... the kid is half crocked. He strangled you, and yet, he still talks about any memories he remembers for days on end. So give him a shot."

I slowly nod, and go to the door, unable to give Haymitch an earth shaking reply. What will he say? What will I say? Will he attack me? All these worries run through my head, and I barely notice Prim standing before the door, her arms folded across her chest, and her blue eyes narrowed and pensive.

"Prim...I don't think-"

"I've been working with him, Katniss. I've also had Delly reassure him of a few things. Things will be okay in there, I promise. Go," she says, and finally, I see a smile. I lean forward, and kiss her forehead, murmuring, "little duck, you're so grown up."

I take a deep breath, and click the latch, pushing it slowly as I weave my thin frame between the wedge the door made. I feel stupid for doing this, but I grip the door like a vice as I make my way inside, and stand there, motionless. There he is. Peeta, sitting on the bed, blue eyes fixated on me, hands still linked in cuffs. "Katniss," he says, and my whole body threatens to run over to him. I miss him, and I know that now more than ever.

"Hi," I say, unsure of what else to begin with. "I remember that day in the rain."

So he remembers giving me bread? I hardly think that accounts for the memories of _us_. But it's a start, and I don't want to bash Prim's progress. So I nod, and say, "it's one of the first times you saved my life."

"I asked to be cuffed, you know. Prim thought it would bother you, but I don't want to take chances," he explains, and I stare at the metal links on his hands. How dare he be so damn heroic? It makes me sick, and I know I can't hide this emotion. My face contorts with disgust, or something of the sort, and I hide my face. If he sees me shed one tear...he won't see that. He can't see that. Why the hell does he have to be so perfect? "Katniss? What's wrong?" I hear the genuine concern in Peeta's voice. It sounds like the old him. And I nearly break. But instead, I buck up, and half smile, saying with remorse, "even when you can't remember all of me, you still do things for my sake."

That makes his face go blank. I worry that I've hit a nerve. Did Snow program him to explode with a certain word? Emotion? I fear that I've shattered Prim's dedication. Then, his lips turn upward, just lightly, so that I know he's pleased with what I've said. "With Prim's help, I can remember most of the first and second Hunger Games. There's still some fuzzy parts. But...between that and what I do know, I can't determine what's real," he explains, and a struggling look takes over his face. I watch his hands tighten in the cuffs, and I feel like it's my uneasiness that's making him this way. So I shut the door, and take a step closer to him. "I know you," I nod, "and I can tell you what's real."

He looks at me, and asks, "you saved my life in the first games. Real or not real?"

"Real," I answer, although he'd done a hell of a lot more for me than I did for him. "You're the reason for the uprisings, real or not real?"

I hesitate, because I can hear Haymitch shouting, "don't answer that honestly, you idiot! Not real! Not real!"

But I owe Peeta the truth. So I nod my head, and reply, "real." he tenses, and I look at him, "you think I caused the uprisings to put the districts at war. Real or not real?"

"Real," he replies bitterly. I shake my head, and rub my arms to warm them up. It's awfully cold in this room, I just realized. "Let me explain this one?"

Peeta breathes, and his hands unclench from their tight fists, relaxing in the vices of the cuffs. "Prim says I should listen to you, so go ahead."

"The districts lost hope. With our rebellion in the Hunger Games—do you remember that?"

"Nightlock," he nods quickly, and my eyes flicker back to the floor. "Right. It gave people hope that if they acted as we did, they would overrule the Capitol. And during the games, when Rue died," I flinched at the memory, "I gave her a proper funeral. That's apparently against the rules as well," I nod knowing I've given a decent explanation. Peeta sits there, meddling in his own muddy thoughts for a good few minutes, before he blinks slowly, and looks up at me with a serious expression. "You lied about being in love with me, didn't you?" he doesn't ask real or not real this time.

"I-" I stammer, unable to answer him directly. Peeta then smiles, and shakes his head, "I'd like to say that bothers me, but I'm relieved it's true. I can only sort so much out on my own."

I find myself bold enough to be standing right in front of him. "You can ask me anything, I'll always answer you honestly," I urge, and he purses his lips for a moment, before saying, "I ask Prim about us all the time. Or, about you. She says you worry constantly for me. Real or not real?"

"Real." Peeta then looks perplexed, "but you don't love me," the way he says it doesn't sound hurt, it sounds confused. Like he can't fathom my reasoning. But I hold my hands out, and reply, "I didn't love you, at the time."

"Ah," he nods, not questioning my change in tense with those words. That's okay, one step at a time. "I'm more distressed that I can't sort out truth from lie, because when I look at you, I waver between kissing you and hurting you," he answers honestly. I ready to jump back, but he doesn't tense, or growl, or scream. He doesn't rage against the cuffs and try his hands at my throat. But since he's been back, I realize, he hasn't been his old self with me, at all. "You've already tried one," I say, and his lips irk into a rueful grin. "Think I'm allowed to try the other?"

I see him. The old Peeta. His warmth radiates onto me, while I slide my hands gingerly into his, letting myself fall freely into his arms. I'll have to thank Prim for her work, because I'm all too happy for words. I stand there, awaiting what I've been missing for so long. "Katniss," he says, but he doesn't hiss. I feel the night's on the train, the moments in the cave, the beach, the interviews... and I'm asking myself, real or not real? He's warm, and I love it. I am careful not to drag my selfish desire into this chaste kiss, but when I feel his hands tighten on mine, there's no way I'll even move them. He glows like the sun when he pulls away to look at me, and his cheeks are slightly red. I guess mine are too. "which do you like better?"

He frowns at me, and snaps, "is that even a question?"

"You're the one who said he was wavering..." I mumble, feeling stupid for asking since he made such a deal of it. But I hear Peeta chuckle, and he mutters, "honestly, I think I like the kiss better."

Before I smile completely, and put my arms around him, his expression grows reserved, and he leans away from our close proximity, murmuring, "but until my urge to kill you is completely gone...I don't want to try anything serious."

"What does that include, exactly?" I ask, hurt in my voice. His hands grip the vices like his lifeline, and he slowly states, "I'm not sure...let's just take things slow. Visit me again tomorrow?" I want to tell him I'd rather stay here, and never leave. But for Peeta's sake, I agree to the terms. I nod, and rest my forehead against his, muttering, "please remember all of me," I whisper, more for myself than he. I hear him reply, "I want to, Katniss. God I do."


	3. Is It Time?

I'd spent the week visiting him at the same time every day. I only spent forty five minutes with him, but it seemed like hours on end. Then Prim would open the door and say "time's up!" and I felt like five minutes had passed. But Prim would come to my room at night and reassure me that Peeta didn't like the fact our time was so limited. I looked stiff to her, but underneath my covers, I smiled. There were days like this.

There were also days where I would walk in, and he couldn't even look at me. He would ask for me to leave after only ten seconds. There were even days where Prim wouldn't allow me to see him at all.

And then there were days where...well, quite honestly I don't even know what to think of them.

"Prim, you _have_ to explain this to me," I growl, stabbing my fork into the substance I'm supposed to consider meat. Prim flicks her eyes up at me, and narrows her stare. "I understand you're worried for him, Katniss, but-"

"Prim... _please_," I whine, now realizing I must sound so pathetic. I try and use my hunting abilities to detect any person nearby, especially Gale. Prim looks at me, and I want to say so many things that would explain why I'm demanding she tell me all about Peeta and his condition. She senses my worry, though, and half smiles, bobbing her head in satisfaction. "Alright, I will tell you. But you have to promise me, that none of this will change your view of him. You claimed you hated him after he attacked you, remember?"

"What else was I supposed to—erm...right," I agree, and force more of the fake protein down my throat to keep me quiet. God this stuff was awful. Filling, but awful. Prim explained to me all about Peeta's condition. How the Capitol treated him, how they twisted his mind into believing so many warped things about me. She explained in detail about his frustration with every day life. As far as Peeta is concerned, his memories up until the hunger games are the only things valid. Prim thought it best to keep it quiet about his parents for now. I agreed. She told me things that I already knew, and things I didn't want to hear.

"He asked about _Gale_?"

"He's talked to him," Prim nods, shooting me a look before I can raise hell and throw my food across the room. "President Snow only altered Peeta's memories of _you_. So _yo__u_ are his focus. He's asked pretty much anyone around this place that knows you. Haymitch, Gale, me, Delly, even Finnick quite a bit." I should feel flattered, I guess, with the way Prim's making things sound. But I don't.

Angry, I push out of my chair and shove my tray away from me, growling, "finished."

"Katniss, you can see him today if you like," Prim offers, not attacking me for my mood. Prim probably understands my frustration. Why in the world would I want Gale and Peeta in the same room? It was bad enough that she told me he's been lead to believe I _whored_ myself out to make myself look appealing to the crowd while I secretly plotted against them. That I had known all along about this upcoming rebellion, that Snow was the victim and me the monster. I almost died when Prim explained to me how Peeta raked his cuffs against the wall, angrily yelling about his undying love for me being a fluke.

Did he love me now?

"He won't try to attack me, today?"

"No, he's calm," Prim answers, but I'm unsure if I want to see him today. I'm beyond angry. I clench my fists, and take a deep breath. Everyone's already lectured me about this once. _"You're not wrong in your feelings, Katniss, but keep in mind Peeta has been through hell."_ Delly warned me at lunch. _"I would hate you, but I'd do everything to make you remember."_ Gale in our...well. _"I know you're still waiting on that welcome home hug." _The little duck always knows what I want. "_Give him a shot,_" damn Haymitch, too.

"Okay... I'll see him," I answer.

Today, he seems fine. Normal, and friendly. He asks me about the interview with Caesar. "Which one?" I reply, trying to remember all the different times I had to stare at the man's plastic smile and eccentric style for ten minutes. "Our _engagement_."

I choke on my water when he says that. He sits patiently, watching me gather myself, get a hold of my lung function and dry my eyes. "Erm..." I clear my throat, "what about it?"

"Real, or not real?"

"Not real," I nod, and he frowns. That means to explain. I pick at the grime under my fingernails, and murmur, "you came up with the idea on your own. Since we couldn't end the star crossed lovers image, you thought to make the crowd fall in love with us even more. So you announced our engagement," I hesitate, my eyes flickering around the room before my hands rest protectively over my stomach, "and our baby."

I don't look at him for a good minute, but when I do, his eyebrows are raised, his hands limp in his lap. "Baby?"

"Not real," I remind him, my next facial expression aimed at the two way mirror, unable to be stopped. "You sound like that's a bad thing," he replies, "I thought you didn't want children?"

"I don't. But it's not exactly the memory of me I want you to have..." I admit, and Peeta half smiles. "I"ll agree, it's not pleasant. But any memory of you is better than what I know...or...don't know...or..." he stammers, jamming his fist into his forehead in frustration. "I understand," I say, easing his attempt of explanation. He nods, and gnaws on his cheek, looking over casually to the two way mirror. I'm not sure if he knows they can see us or not... Peeta's smart, but for some reason, I feel like he's not as perceptive in this state. I lean back on the chair for support, stretch my legs out, and swallow a yawn. I'm a bit tired today, but I wouldn't dare show that to him, and have him send me back to my cell early. "You were afraid to sleep on your own after the first hunger games. Real, or not real?"

"Real." He nods in satisfaction, and says, "that's why you asked me to stay with you."

"Right."

There's an awkward silence. I feel like there's nothing to say today. Well, I'm more concerned about what he could have possibly asked Gale. But I know if I bring him up, Prim and Haymitch would shit a brick on the other side of that mirror. So I bite my cheek, swallow my questions, and flicker my eyes to Peeta, readjusting myself in my chair. I watch his hands tense, although I haven't done anything—that I can think of—to set him off. "Peeta?" I ask, and his whole body relaxes. He looks at me with this big blue eyes, and murmurs, "you said my name." I realize that, too. And it felt good to say it. So I nod, and give him a twitch of a grin. "What else would I call you?"

He doesn't smile, but relapses, his eyes growing cold, his body hunching over the cuffs like his lifeline. "Snow told you I called you different things, didn't he?" Peeta's eyes stay off my face, but he does nod to my question, and I reassure, "Peeta...I've only ever called you Peeta. Well, maybe an idiot once or twice, but you deserved it. You seriously don't know how to be quiet when hunting." He doesn't move. "Not, weakling? Pawn? A joke?"

"Never!" I shout, clapping my hands over my mouth at the sound I just made. I sounded horrified. Peeta's head snapped up to me, and I was sure he was going to lash out, attack, scream, or something to make it seem like this progress was worthless. But he didn't. He sat there, looking more dumbstruck than angry, while I calmed myself down. "Sorry I...I would never say those things."

"So, not real?" and the blonde gives me his old-self grin. "Definitely not real," I nod, and he holds out his hands. Eagerly I walk to them, and slip my hands in his, and gingerly rest my forehead against his own. "You've gotten better at this," I say honestly, and he chuckles. "You have Prim to thank for that. Well, and Gale."

He feels my body tense, because he pulls away and frowns at me. "Does that bother you?"

"Ah, I didn't know Gale was your doctor as well," I lie smoothly, not looking at the glass. I wait for the door to click and either Haymitch or Prim say "time's up _Katniss_."

"No he's not, he just explained a few things," he shrugs, like it's no big deal. This baker has had his mind warped. This blonde has no idea what's right and what is left. This person just shrugged off something that I find impossible. "What could he possibly explain to you, you've barely said two words to Gale."

"We've met before you, Katniss," Peeta says as a matter of fact. Gale said that to me before, and it makes me bite my cheek. "I just wanted his opinion on stuff. Like how he felt about the hunger games, and you. I got most of the answers right."

"What'd you get wrong?" I ask like he's just taken an exam. He peeks up at me in a childish manner, almost like he's afraid to answer this question. And for the first time in what seems like forever, Peeta Mellark is nervous to answer a question. "How you feel about me," he says, his hands tightening over mine. But not in his frustrated grip. No, he holds onto me so that he won't let me go. So that I can't run out of this room and go bash Gale's head in, yell and scream at Haymitch and Prim for allowing this. No, he holds onto me to keep me from being psychotic. "And?" My voice is strained. He gives me that look he always did when he could tell I was angry. "You love me, real or not real?"

How do I answer?

I stare at him, for a long minute. It was one thing to imply that I love him. It was a whole other to actually say it. I'm nervous, too. His blue eyes linger on mine, holding my gaze. I'm afraid of looking away, because with Prim's work, I feel like I'll shatter this fragile shell of the old Peeta that is sitting before me. I wish he hadn't asked this, so that I could hold him, and kiss him, and call him mine, without all the trouble. I know Gale's answer. Gale always answered what I wasn't strong enough to say. But this time, I'm being called to the carpet. Gale didn't even give me the chance to work out my own thoughts. Because he had seen enough of the snippets on the screens. He had watched enough of my whining and crying, and he could see the real me. I didn't fool Gale, I fooled myself. And I felt bad.

I squeeze his hands, and in the smallest voice manageable, with my cheeks red as berry, and my heart pounding at hummingbird's pace, I murmur, "real."

Silence hazes over the room like the poisonous fog from the Quarter Quell arena. I don't even dare to look at the two way mirror, for I might just start to cry—that water works thing I've been doing a lot lately—or make a face towards anyone whose watching. For some reason, I feel like Gale is on the other side of that glass. "Katniss I..." Peeta begins, throwing off my thoughts. He's a little red in the face, but there's a hidden smile in his lips that he's trying to contain. I stumble as he pushes up from his bed, gasping when the cold metal of his cuffs press against my jawline. Our foreheads press together, and he repeatedly murmurs my name, holding onto me like a vice. Suddenly, the two way mirror disappears, and so does this asylum-type room. It's just me, and my boy with the bread. His lips mold over mine perfectly, and I revel in his warmth. He shines, like the sun. That's what he is, he's my sun. My inner fire. My mind is racing faster than my body. With these cuffs, he's limited, but I'm not. His hair is soft, so soft that I rake my fingers through it repeatedly, shuddering at every lock that brushes my fingertips. His lips taste warm, and familiar, every part of me hungers for more. The only words in my head, are the truth.

"I love you," I breathe, feeling his warm kiss pause on my neck. And I smile, because I feel his lips curve into a grin. "Hmm...I didn't think you'd actually say it."

I hear the old Peeta. This moment...it's like he never left me. As his eyes link with mine, I feel a cool rush, and then there's his warmth again. His fingers gingerly dance at the hem of my shirt, and he growls in slight frustration. His hands can't part far enough. Then, a pained look strikes his face. His eyes narrow on my hands, which are gripping his shirt. I let go, and murmur, "I'm sorry...it's reflex."

"I know," he nods, and pulls away from me rather coldly. "Today was good though," he says, resting back on the bed, in his usual position. I wrap my arms around myself, because his warmth is falling away from me. And with it, goes all of my strength. I take a deep breath, and force myself to lock everything into my ribcage. I'm not embarrassed. I mean, I made out with him in half of his clothes in a dark cave while we both nearly bled to death—with every district watching. Part of me wonders if he thought of the same thing I did. "It was more than good," I nod.

"Like the old me?" He asks, and I try to hide my smile. I do a better job when I see his fists struggling against the cuffs. I notice something red when he shifts his arm, and it disappears. Too late, I've already seen it. "Peeta, you have to get that looked at!"

"It's fine, it's sort of a reminder, you know? It keeps me from doing anything I'd regret," he gives me a struggled smile, and his fists push and pull at the cuffs once more, revealing more of his marred flesh beneath the metal. I almost place my hands over my mouth, but I remember my ribs, and lock them tight. "Um, o-okay."

He knows I'm not okay in the slightest, but I have to be stronger for him. So I try and smile. "Whatever works."

"Thank you, Katniss," he says, and sighs with relief, the cuffs becoming loose with the relaxing of his body. "Katniss, time's up!" I hear Prim, and I bid my goodbye, sliding out of the room. I see Haymitch take a swig from a bottle, and smile at me. "Sweetheart, you sure know how to make heads spin." I glare, and snarl, "shut up."

"Tch, hurry up darling," he teases, and walks away, swinging his scotch in his hand. I want to smack him, him, then Gale. Prim looks at me with big eyes, and asks, "Katniss you...you chose?"

"I-I... I need to see Gale," I say, my head clear of all cloudiness. Prim's full eyelashes flutter, and her eyes waver back and forth, before she says, "he's in his room. Katniss!" She calls, as I take three steps to charge for him. "Haymitch does need you back here, so please don't take too long." I feel like she's saying this for Gale's sake more than mine. Prim always worries for others, but she always worries for the victim. I almost waver in my attempt, but my anger consumes my conscience, and I storm off to Gale's room.

I couldn't have banged on the door hard enough. I almost slapped him, if he hadn't sidestepped my rough entrance. "Gale, Gale, Gale!" I shriek, unsure of what else to say. He swings the door shut, and leans against the wall, his brow raised, and his arms folded across his chest. "Katniss, Katniss, Katniss?"

"_Don't," _I snap. How dare he toy with me right now? I wanted to throw the blade that was shining out of the corner of my eye. I wanted it to land right past his head, so I could see the fear on his face, and hear the apology erupt from his mouth.

"Are you really going to be angry with me?" he keeps the cocky exterior, his eyes level with mine. Fine, I'll use my words. I leave the blade on the bed.

"You had no right to-"

"To what! Give the kid a little hope? The truth, maybe? Katniss, stop being so damn selfish," Gale snaps, and it hurts. His eyes tighten, and he continues, "That kid went through torture, mental trauma, and he's still trying to fight for your sake, even when he's been brainwashed to hate you. The least I could do was ease his confusion!"

I'm more than furious. My face is probably red, but I don't care. "So you told him I was in love with him?!"

"And what did you say to him, Katniss?" Gale asks. I stop. My eyes fumble around the room for a quick answer, something that would make this go over easier, but then it hits me. Prim's uneasiness, Haymitch's cocky smile. He watched everything. Gale half smirked, and dropped into a chair, shaking his head, "I knew it from the start, Katniss, you can't lie to me. _That_, can't be explained any other way. You saying I had no right... _you _kept him in the dark. I told him what he needed to hear!"

"I didn't tell him because I thought it would be a set back!"

"You call _that _a setback?" He's right. If anything, it propelled Peeta forward more than my methods had. "You kept treating him like this _patient_. So fragile, so weak. All he needs is truth. He can sort it out himself," Gale explained, folding his hands together, resting his elbows on his knees. "Gale I don't understand..."

"I knew I'd lost when you came home from the first games. You weren't acting, you were new. You stared at the kid like a blind man to the sun for the first time in his life." I found this slightly ironic, being I considered Peeta the sun. So that was his thought process? He thought I'd fallen in love during the first Hunger Games? Well... he was right. But he was also wrong. "So that's it? Because you saw a bit of acting-"

"You weren't acting-"

"Shut. Up," I snap, and he goes quiet. "You're pouting because you saw my facial expression? What about every time we hunted together? Our plan to run away? You were my saving grace, Gale. I trusted you with Prim, my mother. I trusted you with my own life. I still do trust you. Because I love you, you idiot," and my cheeks are red, once more. I see Gale smile, and he takes my face into his hands, placing a cool kiss on my forehead. "I know."

It's like our roles switched. I clearly remember me saying this before, and I now know where's he coming from. I'm angry that he takes my confession so lightly. "Sound familiar?" He breathes. "So if you know...then why would you tell Peeta anything? Why not fight for me?" I'm truly curious, even if I am still frustrated, confused, and emotionally worn down.

"Someone's cocky," he laughs, and shakes his head, "I hardly doubt you could keep him in your life as just the baker you went to war with, Catnip. Look at me," he holds my gaze, and murmurs, "it's still for you to decide, but I'm telling you, right now, the lot of us know you better than you know yourself. You've been through quite a bit, too. Even he agreed to that. Overall, I just want your happiness. Whatever that means."

His thumb smooths over my cheek, making me notice that it's completely wet with tears. I hold onto his wrists, readying to pull away if he tries to kiss me. It feels so wrong to shift from Peeta's touch to Gale's so quickly. He understands my body movement, and doesn't attempt to go any further. He just lets me go. "So...so that's it? You'd be okay with whatever I decide?"

"Of course not," Gale hisses, shrugs his shoulders and rubs the back of his neck in submission, "but I won't force anything on you. You're my best friend. It can be that way again, you know." I want to appreciate that, so badly I do. My hands find his torso, and I give him the tightest hug I could fathom. I could have crushed his ribs, or so I thought. "Oh, thank you, Gale..." I whisper, knowing these words are dangerous. His body tenses, but still, in that soft voice of his, he replies, "always."

That's it. I've already shut down Gale's offer, told him exactly who I want. Inside I don't feel completely right, but at the same time, I feel so relieved. Like I've lifted an anvil off my chest. The pearl in my pocket no longer weighs a ton, and the pounding in my head vanishes. The room is silent, but I'm unsure if I should leave. My hands let him go, and I say, "you don't have to be such a gentleman... I get it if you hate me."

"_Katniss_!" He groans, raking his hands through his hair in frustration. "I don't hate you!" He gives that angry, stressed laughter at the edge of his words. "Just give it a while, us... and things will be okay." Before I get the chance to screw things up even more, Gale jerks his head to the door, reminding me about Haymitch. Before I decide to wound him anymore, I turn to leave. It seems like hours, walking down a few corridors and one elevator ride to get to my mentor. He's not drunk, not yet at least. But my face is enough to make him aware that I'm struggling to hold on, because when he sees me, he smiles with his lips, and holds out his arms. It's the, _C'mere, sweetheart_ look. "C'mere, sweetheart," he beckons. Instantly I'm in his grasp. We stand there, in silence, my body refusing to make my sobs audible. His shoulder helped quite a bit, though.

"How did he take it?" He asks, and I reflect on Haymitch's turn of attitude for a moment. He always became the nice guy—the guy who was open to discuss a psychotic girl's love life—at the times I was about to cry. Heaven forbid I want to discuss something without much emotion, and he's too drunk to look at my face over my hand gestures he finds so interesting. "I'm pretty sure he feels worse than I do," I answer, and he smooths a hand over my hair. "He'll be alright, Katniss, you did nothing wrong."

Oh but I did, my dear mentor.

We stand there in silence a bit longer, until I'm ready to resurface from my small breakdown. I look up at the man, and rake my sleeve over my eyes, nodding my head in assurance. Now he knows I'm ready to move on. This little session never happened. "So, why did you need me?"

"Well... you're not gonna like this much, but time is running out, sweetheart," Haymitch says as he guides me towards the elevator. We push inside, and he jams his thumb against the Basement level button. "We need to get teams together, and Beetee was going over the layouts for the squads."

I don't like where this is headed, already. "We decided to put you with your hunting buddy, since you two seem so well acclimated to each other," Haymitch grumbles, scratching at the scruff on his chin. Whenever he does that, he's about to give bad news. I look down at the elevator floor, already knowing what lies ahead in his words. I don't want to hear it, however. Because I know how unmanageable it's going to be. "But we also decided to put you with..."

The sound of Haymitch's voice drowns out. It not only drowns out because I don't want to hear him, but it drowns out, because when those elevator doors open, and that platform ahead comes into my view, I see the men I'm going to be working with. Finnick stands there in his self proclaimed glory, smiling at me with his pearly grin. But it's not Finnick I'm necessarily concerned with. It's the tall blonde beside Finnick, that makes my stomach drop. He turns and looks at me, and a small smile twitches at the corners of his lips. A nervous smile. He's holding a gun, and his cuffs are gone, but the marred rings of flesh on his wrists are bandaged.

The additional member to my team is the man I just confessed my love to not even two hours ago.

The problem is, I don't think I want him here.


End file.
